


Primitive Urges

by AlexRuby



Series: Making a Legacy [2]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: An Ode To Everyone Who Never Left Their Farm In Y1, F/M, Fluffy Writing, Gen, Hermit Farmer, Insecurity, Man This Fic Got Away From Me, POV First Person, too many literary references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 15:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13616370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexRuby/pseuds/AlexRuby
Summary: Morgan the farmer has been in town for almost two years and is feeling insecure about living up to her Grandfather’s sterling reputation in the town.  As a woman who values her privacy and seeks out the solitude that nature provides, attending a large public gathering like the Spirit’s Eve Festival doesn’t sound all that appealing.  With Elliot’s help and his often quoted literary advice, Morgan will have to learn that being true to oneself is the only thing that matters in the world, no matter what other people say in return.





	Primitive Urges

I woke up before my alarm clock. I usually do. Something about the autumn air made it hard to sleep in. Everything smelled and felt alive; it was like the entire world was an explosion of color and nature was throwing one last farewell before winter set in.

I checked the calendar next to my bedside. Although I knew the date, I still checked it anyway out of habit. It was the 27th of fall. Tonight the entire town would set up for the Spirit’s Eve Festival in the town square. It was a tradition as old as the town itself, and it was a tradition that I often avoided.

“Good morning, dear.” I heard a sleepy but pleasant voice call out next to me.

Elliot sat up. His hair fell in tousles and waves that reached his mid back. His bare chest looked like pale gold in the first morning rays of light. It was a sight that almost tempted me back beneath the covers.

“Good morning.” I murmured and kissed him lightly. His lips still tasted like the wine we shared the night before and his minty toothpaste.

“So, tonight’s the night, eh?” He said. His eyes sparkled with boyish delight for the promises that awaited him at the Spirit’s Eve Festival. Elliot enjoyed most festivals and town activities. Despite the solitary nature of his work as a writer, he enjoyed people. He enjoyed good conversations and tonight he’d get to feast on Willy’s fishing stories and Gus’s gossip until he burst.

“I’m not sure if I’m going tonight.” I admitted.

“Why not? Tonight’s one of the most magical nights of the year.”

“Magical?” My eyebrow cocked in disbelief.

Elliot pulled me closer. He had a far-gone look in his eyes; he had the same look on his face when he was writing.

“Imagine all of the pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns, and candelabras casting the night with an eerie glow. Did you know that Gus is organizing a pumpkin pie eating contest, and Sam’s band is going to play a few songs. Besides the Adventure Guild always puts on an enthralling maze. I’ve been told the prize at the end is one-of-a-kind.”

I grinned and kissed his forehead. “That sounds wonderful for you. But for me, it sounds dreadful. Still, be sure to give my best to Robin and her family. Let her know that I’ll be stopping in tomorrow to hire her. The barn needs to be expanded a bit now that we have the goats.”

My fingers interlaced with Elliot’s. His hands were smooth, almost soft, and they felt like warm velvet running across my calloused skin.

“I’ll be sure to send your regards.” He rumbled and kissed my knuckles.

Since meeting Elliot, I’ve tried to overcome my hermit-like tendencies. It wasn’t that I was anti-social by any means, I just enjoy my privacy. After arriving in town nearly two years ago, it took me a while to introduce myself to the other residents. Out of necessity, I became fast friends with Pierre and Robin as they offered me valuable advice about starting my farm, but my relationship with the rest of the town was still nonexistent.”

So what are your plans for tonight?” He asked.

“Well after doing the chores, I suppose I’ll celebrate Spirit’s Eve in my own way. Maybe I’ll stargaze out on the dock just south of the farm. Maybe I’ll do some fishing up at the mountain lake. No matter what I do, I know that I want to hear the crickets and the bullfrogs one last time before they all disappear for the winter.”

Elliot smiled. He never casted judgement, nor did he rebuke me for not being the type of girlfriend who was attached to his hip all the time, and I loved him for it.

“Your transcendentalist spirit is one of the many things that I admire about you, dear.”

After Elliot moved in with me, he fell into a phase of reading the works of Thoreau and Emerson. He said that my rustic cabin reminded him of a book called Walden and checked the book out from the library the very next day. He’d share passages with me while I cooked or while we relaxed on the front porch. His sonorous voice clarified the obtuse and drew the beauty out of the prose. Those men may be long dead, but I could appreciate their message: Nature is divine.

“Thanks.” I murmured. “I better get going. The cows are hungry and they’re probably ornery from being cooped up in the barn all night. They aren’t use to being stuffed in a building after having all summer to come and go from the barn as they pleased.”

I dressed quickly in a pair of thick blue jeans and a flannel shirt, and Elliot dressed as well and made up the bed. He brushed out his long, rusty brown hair and swept it back into a loose ponytail. He pulled on a red button down frock and padded over to the small kitchenette that Robin had installed for me in the previous year.

Luna meowed, her wide yellow eyes waited expectantly for the minced up fish that we stored safely away in the refrigerator. Elliot picked her up and scratched her affectionately beneath the chin. She purred but then wiggled free. Her main goal was to be fed, not loved.

I pulled on my thick leather work boots and grabbed my backpack that was hanging next to the door. Our routine never wavered. I let the animals out into the pasture, cleaned the barn, collected the eggs from the chicken coup, and activated the sprinklers while Elliot cooked us breakfast.

The frosty air nipped at my nose and the yellow blades of grass were glazed in a thin layer of ice. The sun glinted above the thick pine tree line, and the rays that did hit the ground were melting the ice away into a soft, cold dew.

The cows lowed and my horse whickered when she saw me. Her doleful brown eyes were wide and expectant, just like Luna’s. If the end of Autumn brought promise of winter, then my presence in the barn brought promise of a bountiful feast.

The hay trough was mostly empty so I threw some fresh stuff into the bin. I pulled open the barn doors and jumped out of the way as the stampede passed by. My cows plodded out into the pasture and my two goats trotted by excitedly. I had bought the goats from Marnie early in the fall and they had yet to reach maturity. Their spindly legs kicked out impishly and the male tentatively head butted my hand.

“Go on.” I urged. “Go run, ya rascal.”

I went to the small lean-to stable that I had constructed with Robin’s guidance. I undid the metal latch and pulled open the metal gate. Carmen poked her head over the gate door and nibbled on my sleeves.

I fed her the cave carrot that she knew I was hiding in my sleeve and caressed her strong jaw. “Go on girl. Go teach those goats some manners.”

Carmen trotted out of the pen and joined the rest of the group. With the animals gone, I set to work shoveling out the muck and dung that had accumulated over the night and then spread some fresh hay on the concrete floor. I made a mental note to talk to Marnie about a stud service for my two dairy cows as their milk had finally run dry last week.

Once the barn and the stable was clean, I double checked that all of the gates were latched and made my way to the southern line of trees to see if the remaining apples were ripe yet. I harvested nearly a full bushel of bruised but edible apples before my stomach called me back home.

I set the apples next to the wood pile. I couldn’t sell them in town, and nobody in their right mind would like a bruised apple as a gift, so I made another mental note to visit the library to find some how-to guides on fruit canning and brewing. If I couldn’t brew the apples into a hard apple cider or apple ale, then maybe I could mash them down into homemade applesauce.

When I entered the house again, the aroma of onions and scrambled eggs in butter hit my nose. My stomach rumbled appreciatively.

“Breakfast is almost ready, love.” Elliot called over his shoulder.

I took a seat at the cramped wooden table and Luna jumped up into my lap.

“Oh, now you want affection.” I replied to the cat who was purring happily in my lap.

Elliot set down two plates full of fluffy scrambled eggs, golden brown breakfast potatoes, and crispy caramelized onions. I couldn’t wait so I dug in immediately. I ate with gusto, barely taking a moment to breathe. When Elliot came back to the table with two large thermoses of coffee and a carton of cream, I sat back sheepishly and patted at my lips with a napkin.

“It’s so good....I was so hungry.” I mumbled out from beneath my napkin as I chewed my remaining food. “Sorry. My animal mind just went rabid there for a second.”

Elliot smiled. He sat up straight and ritualistically prepared his breakfast just how he liked it. He added a little pepper to the eggs, a splash of creamer and a teaspoon of sugar to the coffee, and a spoonful of my homemade salsa from my summer garden. The man treated a plate of eggs and potatoes like it was a four course meal and he was dining in front of the king.

“It’s alright. We all cave to our baser instincts sooner or later. I imagine you worked up quite an appetite from working late last night.”

Indeed, I didn’t make it back to the farmhouse until well after eight in the evening. I rented Lewis’s truck to help harvest all of the last autumn crops out in the field. After storing the harvest in the root cellar, refrigerator, and shipping crate, my back and shoulders cried out for mercy.

I nodded, “At least we wont starve. With my harvest and your cooking abilities, I think we’re set for a pleasant winter.”

“Marvelous.” Elliot agreed.

A comfortable silence fell over us as we ate. Since Elliot cooked, I took care of the dishes and set them out to dry. I cracked open the small window that was above the sink to let the cool breeze clear out the stuffy air from the evening and then pulled on my jacket and buckled my sword and slingshot to my waist.

“Oh? Are you going out to the mines?” Elliot asked.

“No, I was thinking about going into the woods for a bit. The pond back there has some of the best fishing.”

Elliot grinned. His voice changed quality and he spoke as though he was waxing prophetic, “I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front the only essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

“Thoreau?” I asked although I was confident in my answer.

“Of course. Who else?”

I kissed his cheek. Although I didn’t always understand the passages that he quoted to me, having him wax literary filled my soul and made me feel valued. “And what does that quote mean?”

“It means that you search out the solitude and the wilderness to become closer to your baser, more primitive self. To learn from nature by living in it.”

“Primitive, huh? I suppose fishing is a primitive hobby.”

“Primitive but essential. Fishing fills our stomachs and your soul.”

“And what about you, Mr. Author? What fills your soul?”

I almost expected him to be cliche. Books. Reading. Writing. Hell, being with me.

He looked thoughtful and then grinned, “There are many things of course, but today I have a need to be a bit of a hedonist.”

I cocked my eyebrow at his vague response and he grinned.

“Would you still love me if I guzzled two gallons of pumpkin ale at the festival? Sometimes a man has primitive urges.”

I chuckled, “You’d be incredibly drunk. But yes, I’d still love you. Is that what fills your soul?”

“Yes. Gus’s pumpkin ale is like ambrosia. He only breaks it out for the Spirit’s Eve Festival. I look forward to this night every year.”

“Well, I hope we both nourish our souls tonight.” I replied reached for the door..

“Wait.” Elliot called out to me. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with me? You’d look ravishing in the candlelight.”

I almost quipped that we have candles here at home and he’d be free to ravish me here, candlelight or no, but I bit my tongue. I knew him and he’d most certainly take me up on it, but I had a lot left to do today. There would be plenty of time for us to fan the intimate flames back to live again once winter was upon us.

“I’ll think about it. Okay?”

Elliot seemed satisfied with that answer. “Alright, love. That’s all I ask.”

* * *

When I walked out of the woods, a curtain of impregnable grey clouds descended upon the valley, and by six in the evening, fog rolled in from the river that cut across my property.

I realized that stargazing would be impossible.

There was a live well in the pond south of the house. My grandfather had installed it when I was a child, and I dropped my catch of catfish into it, and I let the animals back into the barn.

Carmen trotted up to me; her nostrils flared as she took in the fishy scent from my hands, and she shook her head, whickered, and skipped sideways. Her eyes looked at me warily.

“I know, girl. I’ll go clean up.” I said.

I opened the gate that led to her stable, poured in a cup of grain to entice her in, and trudged back to the house.

When I went inside, Elliot was gone. He left a note written in neat cursive on the bare kitchen table. It read: _Gone to town early for some dinner. You’re welcome to join me. Otherwise, I will see you around midnight, my love. — E_

I shucked off my thick work clothes and tossed my undergarments into the laundry hamper that was in our bedroom. Luna’s yellow eyes cracked open. She was sprawled across the quilt in our bedroom, her four white paws were extended out like she was reaching for something just out of reach.

“I envy you, Luna.” I murmured and grabbed a clean bath towel from the linen closet. “You can just lay around here all day by yourself and nobody bats an eye at you.”

She stretched, yawned, and then went back to sleep as I trudged to the small bathroom. I turned on the faucet in the shower to let the water warm up, and then I pulled my hair ties out and undid my braids. My blond hair was still lightened from the sun but the freckles that dusted my cheeks were beginning to stand out on their own now that my summer tan was fading.

Although our bathroom was small, the one decoration that hung on the wall was a small framed needlepoint that my grandmother had made. It read: _As Ye Sow, So Shall Ye Reap_ and had been a fixture in the bathroom since I had been a child.

I climbed into the upright shower and closed the glass door behind me. The warm water pelted my back and worked at the knots that were still there from yesterday’s harvest. Taking long, hot showers was an indulgence of mine, and since nobody else was waiting to use the bathroom, I took the extra time to thoroughly shampoo and condition my hair and shave my legs. I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold and then I wrapped myself up in a fluffy towel and crept out into the chilly house.

The clock on the wall read that it was a little past seven. The Spirit’s Eve Festival was scheduled to start officially at eight. With the thick cloud cover, my only options were to stay home and turn in early or to go to the festival, albeit a bit late to the party.

As I towel dried my hair, brushed it, and braided it over my left shoulder, I made a decision. I couldn’t just stay at home by my lonesome. Loneliness was alright when you are under a blanket of stars, but being home alone in a quiet house felt eerie and unsettling, especially on a night like Spirit’s Eve

“Alright Luna, I’m going to the feast.” I called out as I pulled on a fresh set of clothes and a nice sherbet orange blouse. “You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

Luna eyed me. She yawned once more but paid no attention to me. I shook my head at her aloofness. We were two hearts in a pair.

* * *

“Hey farmer.” Alex called out from a nearby picnic table that was groaning from the weight of baked side dishes, bread, preserve, butter, and cooked fish Haley was next to him, her fork daintily picking at the food on her plate.

“Good evening you two.” I replied politely.

“I’m surprised to see you here. You never come to town festivals.” Haley remarked. Although she spoke the truth, I couldn’t help but hear the cutting tone in her remark.

“Yeah. I can be kind of a hermit.” I admitted. “But I thought I’d check out the festivities for once. The decorations look amazing by the way.”

And in truth they did. As evening descended upon the town, the torches gave out just enough light to wash the cobblestone square in a spooky glow. The tables were decorated with orange table cloths and someone had brought benches over to act as temporary seats.

“Yeah, well the decorations look great because all of us ladies helped decorate the town.” Haley replied. “Mayor Lewis sent you a letter about the festival a week ago to remind you that decorating the town is kind of a tradition, but you didn’t show up. Not that we were at all surprised, but still.”

“Haley it’s fine. Decorating is more of a town tradition anyway and not an obligation.” Alex informed me.

My patience was running thin and I almost threw out that an obligation and a tradition seem to be one in the same in Pelican Town, but I bit my tongue.

“I’m sorry if my absence inconvenienced you in any way.” I bit out.

Haley rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over anyway. Have fun at the feast.”

The blond walked away in a huff and my wide-eyed and panicked expression must have sparked whatever empathy was in Alex’s body to come forward.

“Uh…look. Haley’s kind of a hot head. She didn’t mean it like that.” He said awkwardly. “It’s just that your grandfather was always involved in the town affairs. He once organized a pumpkin carving competition for us when we were kids. Sam and I took it pretty seriously, actually. We just thought that you’d be as friendly as your grandfather, that’s all.”

I winced. I knew that Alex didn’t mean anything buy his statement, but I also needed to excuse myself from this conversation.

“Look. I’m sorry if I let you guys down. Festivals and parties aren’t really my thing. Besides, the farm keeps me busy as it is. I just came because I thought it would be good for me to socialize. I didn’t mean to ruin anything.”

“Ah jeeze.” Alex looked physically uncomfortable. “It’s not that. Nothing is ruined, okay? We just thought that — you know what, just forget it. Forget what Haley and I said. Enjoy the festival. We’re glad you came.”

Alex trudged off shaking his head and looking horribly confused. I, too, walked away with an uncomfortable feeling gnawing at my guts. So I looked around the town square to see if there was anyone else who I could talk to.

Shane and Emily were talking quietly at the far table. Emily held a server’s tray full of dirty dishes and Shane was about to dig in to a bowl of creamy soup. Lewis was at the next table looking rather nervous about something. There were two plates already served up with fish, baked potatoes, and salad and he looked expectantly towards the path that led to the Cindersnap Forest.

At the far table, Robin and her husband, Demetrius, were drinking beer and talking with Pierre and Caroline. The four of them looked engrossed in their conversation, and I didn’t want to interrupt.

At the last table, tucked up against the corner of a temporary wooden barricade, was Elliot.  
He was sitting at a table by himself. Gus was in the middle of serving Elliot another beer, and they were both in deep conversation. Neither of them noticed me until I slid into the seat next to him.

“How’s the soul nourishing going?” I asked.

He grinned and raised the tankard to his lips to take a heavy drink. I could smell the nutmeg, cinnamon, and pumpkin spice that wafted up from the amber liquid.

Elliot sighed contentedly and then licked the foam from his lips. “The pumpkin ale soothes my soul, but seeing you makes it soar.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t need to woo me, I’m already yours remember?”

“I will always need to woo you.” He smirked and kissed my forehead. “Although, I am curious to know what brought about this change of heart?”

“It’s kind of hard to stargaze when the clouds are in the way.” I replied. I couldn’t help but pout a little when I said that.

Elliot glanced up and saw what I was talking about. “Ah, that is a shame. I know you had your heart set on that. By the way, I saw you talking to Alex and Haley. Is everything okay? Haley left looking a little cross.”

“Let’s not talk about them right now, okay?”

“Of course.” He replied tactfully. “Well then. How about a drink?”

“I’d love one.”

Without needing to be called over, Gus placed a beer stein full of my favorite hard cider in front of me and passed over a bowl of pretzels.

Elliot already dropped a handful of gold coins down onto the tablecloth and Gus swept two thirds of them into the coin purse that he always had fastened to his waist.

“I could’ve paid for that, you know.” I replied.

“Nonsense. You work hard enough for both of us. Relax and enjoy the evening, my love.”

“Well, thanks.” I held up my glass to his large tankard. “To us, right?”

“To us.” Elliot agreed.

I was parched from the walk into town and drank greedily from my glass. The balance of sweet and tart from apple coupled with the tang of the fermented sugars was refreshing. I sighed contentedly and set my glass on the table. My cheeks felt rosy and a peaceful haze flowed through my brain.

“Gus, this cider is amazing.”

“Well it’s no thanks to you. Your apple batch last year was second-to-none. Pam nearly drank me outta the stuff, but I saved a keg or two just for you.” The mustachioed man replied.

“Gus, you know that I’d never make it through two kegs, even if Elliot helped me drink it. Why don’t you save one for the Feast of the Winter Star and I’ll pick the other keg up tomorrow.”

“Alright, that sounds like a good idea.” He replied. “Another drink Elliot?”

Elliot nodded, chugged the remains of his ale, and then set it back down on the table. For a man of such self-discipline, seeing him cave to indulgence was endearing.

The more I drank, the more at ease I became and I let myself relax into Elliot’s side. As the minutes slipped by, Emily stopped by to chat with us for a while and told us about the dance performance that she was hosting at the library the following week.

Robin made her way over to us, bright-eyed and rosy cheeked from her own liquid libations, and sketched a rough blueprint of the barn upgrades on the back of a cocktail napkin.

At nine, Sam’s band began playing halloween-esque covers of popular pop songs. The reworked lyrics were cheesy, but Abigail looked like she was having a blast. Even Sebastian revealed a rare smile during Sam’s lengthy guitar solo.

By eleven-thirty, my eyelids drooped, and I slumped against Elliot’s side half asleep and feeling the glow from the alcohol.

Gus checked in with the remaining stragglers and told them that it was last call for alcohol.

Elliot placed both of our mugs in the plastic wash bin that Emily had left behind and helped me up. As soon as I stood up, I knew that I was tipsy.

“Are you alright, love?” Elliot asked. His face was flush and his own eyes were half-lidded but happy.

“I think I’m a little drunk.” I admitted and then snickered. “God, this never happens.”

Elliot grinned and guided me through the maze of tables. We both waved good-bye to Gus and Emily as they cleaned up the dishes and mugs. Sam was carrying a sleeping Vincent on his shoulders, while Penny was helping her mother walk back to their trailer. Shane was walking with Jas who insisted that she wasn’t tired as a huge yawn cut into her protests.

As we walked down the dirt road that led to the farm, the moon slid out from behind the clouds and bathed the road in a dim light.

“It looks like Nature has given us a flashlight.” Elliot mused.

“Why couldn’t Nature be awesome and send the clouds away when I wanted to look at the stars?” I mumbled, or more likely, slurred.

“Are you regretting that you came tonight?” There was worry in his voice and I felt badly.

“No. No. I’m happy I came, even if Haley’s complaints about me put a damper on things for a bit.”

“D’you wanna tell me what happened?” Elliot asked. We held hands as we walked back to the farm, but it was mostly out of necessity to maintain our balance on the uneven ground than out of amorousness.

I sighed. “Haley was upset with me because I didn’t help with decorating the town. Alex told me that it was expected of me because my grandfather was such a figurehead. He’d get involved with everything! He’d hide the eggs during the egg hunt. He’d save his best spring produce so he could bring it to the summer luaus to add to the communal stew, and he’d even dress up as Father Christmas during the Feast of the Winter Star.”

“Your grandfather sounded like he was a generous man.” Elliot replied.

“He was.” I agreed.

I led him through the apple orchard and we stopped by the small pond that was down on the south pasture. I planned to add more and more fruit trees, but for now, the wide open area that we had spent most of the summer clearing, was the perfect paradise.

The grass was cool against our backs but not yet wet from the dew that would form overnight. Our breath came out in a fine mist but the ale and cider in our bellies kept the chill away.

“This is outstanding.” Elliot murmured, his eyes drawn to the heavens. His fingers interlaced with mine and I gave his hand a gentle, content squeeze.

Living away from the town meant that the entire sky was filled with stars. The inky blackness in the sky looked like a blanket that was pulled tight. The stars were vivid; we could make out clusters that formulated galaxies light years away, and we even watched a few meteorites streak through the sky. The shear vastness of the world loosened my tongue and what I couldn’t share before leaked.

“Do you think I should be more social? I guess I could make a conscious effort to make small talk a bit more.”

“I wouldn’t change anything about you.” Elliot replied. “Why do you ask?”

“I guess I’m afraid that some people in the town think I’m cold or aloof.” I said.

“Does it matter what they think?”

“No, but I saw how the whole town reacted at your book reading. You enthralled them with your words, you captured their imaginations, and they saw you as Elliot the author. Almost the entire town was there and I know that many people think very highly of you.”

“They think highly of you too.” Elliot pointed out.

“No. They think highly of my grandfather. I just wonder if the town will ever see me as Morgan the farmer and not as Adolph’s hermit granddaughter.”

Elliot rolled onto his side and his hand gently caressed my cheek. “It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who lives in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.”

“Thoreau again?”

“No. Ralph Waldo Emerson.” he grinned. “But still, why does it matter that the townspeople think you’re a hermit? You are happy in your solitude. Why should you become something you’re not just to make others happy?”

I sighed. “I dunno. I see how they treat Linus up in the mountains. He chooses to live up there for his own reasons and yet George belittles him every chance he gets, and even Robin and her family keep him at a distance and he lives up the hill from them! Everyone knew my grandfather and the legacy he left me is hard to live up to. I’m not him, but I think the town expects that of me.”

“Well, then they’ll have to be sorely disappointed.”

I rolled on to my side and faced him. “But I hate disappointing them or disappointing you.”

Elliot’s hand brushed back the hair that had fallen out of my braid and into my face. “Love, you could never disappoint me. From the moment we met on the beach, I knew you were something special. But you shouldn’t live your life for other people. I would’ve never finished my book if I cared what people thought of me. My entire family told me that I’d be nothing but a failure. That I’d be back in Zuzu City selling coffee to folks because earning a living from writing is impossible.”

“But you proved them wrong.” I pointed out. Elliot was so proud to receive his royalty payment from his publisher. Although the amount was nowhere near enough to live off of, the small recognition that his work was valued spurred him into another writing frenzy.

“And you will too, love.” He replied. “Alex and Haley can be disappointed if they want, but look around at all of this. You built this. You care for animals with the same patience and love that you’d have for a child of your own. You weed and tend to the crops with the rigidity and dedication of a military commander. This plot of land is better because you arrived. And if the townspeople can’t recognize that, then there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I grinned and scooted closer into Elliot’s body. His arms wrapped around my back and I snuggled into his chest. He smelled of mint and pine, a combination that was delightfully energizing and comforting.

I rested my forehead against his chest and I could hear the gentle thumping of his heartbeat.

“I love you.”

“I love you as well.”

I nestled into his chest until the combination of alcohol, fatigue, and contentedness lulled me into a blissful half-sleep. Amid the crickets and the bullfrogs, the twinkling stars, and the gentle brush of the wind, we were two souls united with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and feedback are appreciated. This is my first Stardew fic. I thought about doing a multi-chapter piece exploring the Female Farmer and Elliot's relationship, but didn't know if there'd be any interest. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
